"Why do you want to marry me?"
I swung my head around to face her, very confused. "Because I love you. And from what I've heard, that's what people do when they really love each other."
She smiled. I couldn't tell if she was actually happy or if she was upset. Asking someone why they want to be with you isn't a positive question. "I was just wondering. It feels weird for me to be the one who wrangled you in, helped you settle down…"
I didn't let her finish: I pulled her face to mine and started kissing her lips. Rough, then soft, I kept kissing her. She was panting, but pulled away.
"I'm being serious, Shane. Don't you feel weird?"
I shrugged. "No, not really. It makes sense to me."
"Bette and Tina loved each other… they were together for years. They never got married."
"Do you really think they're a good example? They're going through hell right now. Maybe they didn't love each other as much as they thought." I didn't want to get into this — I know what I know. I know who I love. Talking about it isn't my thing.
"I know. Okay. I'm sorry I brought it up — I'm lucky to have such a wild girl settling down for me."
There it was: the word settling. Followed by the word down. The phrase that I hate more than anything. It's like Satan himself coined it. I hate that shit. "Settling down." I don't want to think about it like that. I'm not settling. I'm living.